“I love the look on these men and women's faces when they come out of the simulator confident about what they'll do in this situation, confident they won't panic.”

Published: Wednesday, November 2, 2011 at 4:57 p.m.

Last Modified: Wednesday, November 2, 2011 at 4:57 p.m.

Winona “Bebe” McElroy says that the industry has changed since she started out 23 years ago teaching safety courses to offshore workers in her swimming pool with a 10-pound fire extinguisher tucked under her arm and a helicopter shell she'd fashioned out of a plastic chair. Now, at On-Site Training in Houma, she offers training certified by the Coast Guard and the international Standards of Training, Certification and Watchkeeping to clients ranging from large companies, like BP and Halliburton, to independent operators.

McElroy couldn't comment on how the regulation changes that may result from the Deepwater Horizon spill would alter her training. But On-Site culls constant recommendations from its customers and tries to stay ahead of the regulations as best it can. She bought an imitation helicopter fuselage five years ago, she said, “because we knew it was coming down the pipe,” since the vast majority of offshore workers fly by helicopter to their rigs.

One morning at On-Site Training, she sat by the side of the pool, her hand resting on a level that controlled the metal shell of her imitation helicopter, which was suspended above the water. She reminded her two scuba divers to keep an eye on the students in red hats (the self-identified weak swimmers), before launching the contraption in the water and spinning it around.

Her students — offshore oil rig workers renewing their safety training — were practicing what to do should a helicopter crash into the Gulf of Mexico. They had to brace themselves for impact, then have the wherewithal to unbuckle their seatbelts, force open the window and swim to the surface.

“I love the look on these men and women's faces when they come out of the simulator confident about what they'll do in this situation, confident they won't panic,” McElroy said.

For this particular safety training, the men spent three hours in a classroom, learning about safety equipment and getting a glimpse into survival on a lifeboat, which consists of clinging to a GPS device, avoiding marine life, and subsisting on a brick of processed food.

Then they went to the pool to practice feet-first diving from a collapsed rig, filling their clothes with air to fashion a floatation device and helicopter ditching.

During the classroom portion, instructor Mike Deroche grounded the training in reality, referencing disasters like the Exxon Valdez, the 1988 Piper Alpha disaster in the North Sea and the 2010 Deepwater Horizon explosion in the Gulf of Mexico.

“It used to be, years ago, that there was a little bit of attitude about safety training. That has greatly diminished. The workers come here to learn now. They ask questions and they want to know,” McElroy said. “The regulators and the companies are holding people accountable for safety now. Unsafe acts aren't tolerated.”

<p>Winona “Bebe” McElroy says that the industry has changed since she started out 23 years ago teaching safety courses to offshore workers in her swimming pool with a 10-pound fire extinguisher tucked under her arm and a helicopter shell she'd fashioned out of a plastic chair. Now, at On-Site Training in Houma, she offers training certified by the Coast Guard and the international Standards of Training, Certification and Watchkeeping to clients ranging from large companies, like BP and Halliburton, to independent operators.</p><p>McElroy couldn't comment on how the regulation changes that may result from the Deepwater Horizon spill would alter her training. But On-Site culls constant recommendations from its customers and tries to stay ahead of the regulations as best it can. She bought an imitation helicopter fuselage five years ago, she said, “because we knew it was coming down the pipe,” since the vast majority of offshore workers fly by helicopter to their rigs.</p><p>One morning at On-Site Training, she sat by the side of the pool, her hand resting on a level that controlled the metal shell of her imitation helicopter, which was suspended above the water. She reminded her two scuba divers to keep an eye on the students in red hats (the self-identified weak swimmers), before launching the contraption in the water and spinning it around.</p><p>Her students — offshore oil rig workers renewing their safety training — were practicing what to do should a helicopter crash into the Gulf of Mexico. They had to brace themselves for impact, then have the wherewithal to unbuckle their seatbelts, force open the window and swim to the surface.</p><p>“I love the look on these men and women's faces when they come out of the simulator confident about what they'll do in this situation, confident they won't panic,” McElroy said.</p><p>For this particular safety training, the men spent three hours in a classroom, learning about safety equipment and getting a glimpse into survival on a lifeboat, which consists of clinging to a GPS device, avoiding marine life, and subsisting on a brick of processed food. </p><p>Then they went to the pool to practice feet-first diving from a collapsed rig, filling their clothes with air to fashion a floatation device and helicopter ditching.</p><p>During the classroom portion, instructor Mike Deroche grounded the training in reality, referencing disasters like the Exxon Valdez, the 1988 Piper Alpha disaster in the North Sea and the 2010 Deepwater Horizon explosion in the Gulf of Mexico. </p><p>“It used to be, years ago, that there was a little bit of attitude about safety training. That has greatly diminished. The workers come here to learn now. They ask questions and they want to know,” McElroy said. “The regulators and the companies are holding people accountable for safety now. Unsafe acts aren't tolerated.”</p><p>Staff Writer Cara Bayles can be reached at 857-2204 or at </p><p>cara.bayles@houmatoday.com</p>